After college, when I entered the work force, I finally sought therapy and was diagnosed with chronic, low-grade depression, but I never discussed my eating disorder with my therapist. I continued to remain symptomatic, binging and purging during the day at work and when I got home, spending a lot of money on food, and harboring my secret to remain thin. I managed to function despite my eating disorder and the ongoing binging and purging. I got married, had three children and all the while remained bulimic. I just figured it would stop.
At 38 years old, after more than half of my life, and finally, with my husband’s encouragement, I made the decision to enter the intensive outpatient program at the Renfrew Center in New Jersey, a program that allowed me to live at home, but required me to attend group counseling sessions for five hours a day, three days a week. I was scared and unsure, but after the first three months, I began to understand what my eating disorder was about for me. It was not about the food, dieting or trying to stay thin—it was about control, and I started to realize that I had years of unresolved feelings of anger, conflict and coping with painful situations. I felt like I was learning to express myself, communicate with my voice and take care of myself when I found out that, like so many others who struggle with eating disorders, my insurance company would no longer cover my treatment. I was devastated that they could declare me “well” after three months of part-time treatment for an illness I’d been battling my entire life. I was far from ready to leave, so my husband and I paid the remaining nine months of outpatient treatment out of pocket—a figure that totaled almost $35,000.
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Shortly after 9/11, the state of my mental health deteriorated, and I began restricting my food intake and was losing weight once again. I traveled to Florida and spent six weeks at the Renfrew Center in Coconut Creek, where again, my insurance benefits would not cover my treatment. The cost was more than $50,000, yet this time, I knew I needed to end this cycle once and for all if I was going to survive. I was already battling very low potassium levels, which increases the risk of cardiac arrest, as well as insomnia, anxiety, dehydration, low body temperature and dental issues.
Inpatient treatment saved my life, and with the help of the Renfrew staff, the support of my family, and the necessary aftercare I received when I returned home, I was able to begin my recovery—and my life—without my eating disorder. When I returned home, I wanted others to know that there is hope—and that with treatment, recovery is possible. It is tragic that so many individuals are unable to access treatment because of insurance limitations and the high cost of treatment, and to help combat that, I established the F.R.E.E.D. Foundation, a nonprofit organization that helps provide financial support for treatment of eating disorders.
With F.R.E.E.D., I want to help as many individuals as possible obtain treatment for this mental illness with the chance at recovery. I draw from my own struggle to expand awareness and knowledge so prevention becomes more prevalent than the necessity for care. My hope is that speaking openly about my recovery will encourage others to achieve wellness and overcome the hopelessness of battling an eating disorder. Because six years later, I am here—healthy, recovered and free from the hell of my eating disorder. There is hope, success and wellness that can be achieved.
Gail Schoenbach is executive director and founder of the F.R.E.E.D. Foundation. WWW.FREEDFOUNDATION.ORG .
